Bewoeraiic ia
Beliefonte, Pa., Oct. 28. 1898.
LEFT ALONE.
It’s the lonesomest house you ever saw,
This big gray house where I stay—
I don’t call it living at all, at all—
Since my mother went away.
Four long weeks ago, and it seems a year ;
‘Gone home,” so the preacher said,
An’ Iache in my breast with wanting her,
An’ my eyes are always red.
I stay out of doors till I'm almost froze,
Cause every corner and room
Seems empty enough to frighten a boy,
Aud filled to the doors with gloom.
I hate them to cail me in to my meals,
Sometimes I think I can’t bear
To swallow a mouthful of anything
An’ her not sittin’ up there.
A pourin’ the tea, an’ passin’ the things,
An’ laughing to see me take
Two big lumps of sugar instead of one,
An’ more than my share of cake.
I'm to big to be kissed, I used to say,
But somehow I don’t feel right,
Crawling into bed as still as a mouse—
Nobody saying good-night.
An’ tucking the clothes up under my chin,
An’ pushing my hair back, so ;
Things a boy makes fun of before his chums,
But things that he likes, you know.
There’s no one to go to when things go wrong—
She was always so safe and sure,
Why not a trouble could tackle a boy
That she couldn't up an’ cure.
There are lots of women, it seems to me,
That wouldn't be missed so much—
Women whose boys are about all grown up,
An’ old maid aunties, an’ such.
I can’t make it out for the life of me
Why she should have to go,
An’ her boy left here in this old gray house,
A needing an’ wanting her so.
I tell you the very lonesomest thing
In this great big world to-day
Is a big boy of ten whose heart is broke
’Cause his mother is gone away.
—Jean Blewett in the Toronto Globe.
ANNA GREGORIEVNA.
Bouynoff and I roomed together for three
years. We first became acquainted by
mere chance. We had come to the uni-
versity from two remote provinces and had
never heard of each other before.
I fell in with him on the staircase of a
large house, as the two of us were climbing
the fourth flight of stairs, he being slightly
ahead of me. We must have seen each
other in the gateway, however, where we
had paused to read this notice in a woman’s
hand writing : “A Furnished Room for a
Single Man. Board if desired:”’
Each of us was interested in the inscrip-
tion, and perhaps it was because he smelt
a competitor in me that Bouynoff headed
me off and, hastily crossing the court yard,
went up the staircase named in the notice.
As to myself, I am never in a hurry, so I
took the thing easily and followed him at a
slow pace. When I raised my foot to sep
it upon the first step of the dirty stairway
Bouynoft was already on the landing of the
next floor, and the landlady was opening
room No. 27 on the first floor when I had
only just begun climbing up the third.
However, since our objective point was one
and the same we were bound to meet, and
so we did, at room No. 27. I was admitted
after Bouynoff.
The room was quite a spacious one, with
two windows overlooking the courtyard,
with a table, a bedstead, a sofa, a ward-
robe, a bookcase and a looking glass, the
last named article of furniture dangling
over the sofa and reflecting objects in a
topsy-turvy manner.
“Well, how much ?’’ Bouynoff asked of
the landlady, a dignified looking woman,
tall, rather solidly built, with a pleasant,
genial face, and a gentle voice.
‘“Thirteen rubles,’’ was the answer.
‘Does that include tea?” asked Bouy-
noff.
‘It does. And if you please you can
have board, to. Board alone is six and a
half."
“I see. Thirteen rubles for the room
alone, did you say ?’° asked Bouynoff, who
was evidently not going to hire his board
here. ‘‘Why such a price? You know 13
is not a lucky number,” he added, with a
faint smile.
“Well,” answered the landlady with a
laugh, “in case of money thirteen is a
better number than twelve.’
¢‘I think you are right. Only I am afraid
it is rather too high for me.”
“All right, you can have it for twelve.”
“I am afraid even that’s more than I
could afford.” 3
Here the landlady was called away and
my rival and myself were left alone. He
faced about to me and said :
‘‘Maybe you can afford to pay the price
she asks. You can have the room, then. I
shan’t be in your way.”
‘No, thauk you. It’s a small room I
am looking for. I can only pay seven
rubles a month. .
‘Can you. That’s just what I intended
to pay.”’
‘‘But it’s hard to find a room at that
price,’’ I remarked. ‘I have been looking
for one for three days, They don’t seem to
have any small rooms at all.”’
“Three days? Why I have been at it
more than a week. I have nearly worn
out my boots climbing the staircases, as
many as five stories at a time. But look
here. I have a plan—however, excuse me,
are you a student ?’’
Ven
‘“What class?”
‘‘Just entered.’’
“‘Capital.”’
We introduced ourselves and shook
hands.
“‘But where is your plan ?”’ asked he.
“Why, can’t you see? It’s plain enough.
You haveset aside seven rubles for the room
and so have I. Which means that if we
took thir room together we should econo-
mize two rubles a month—quite enough
for cigarette tobacco, isn’t it.
“I like your plan very much, indeed,
If we can get along.”’
“What nonsense ! Why
we ?7?
When the landlady returned we told her
of our plan. She had no objection, and
the bargain was closed. The only difficulty
was that the room had one bed and the
landlady had none to spare, but I volun-
teered to sleep on the lounge.
That was the way we came to be room-
mates. Every summer we would go each
to his parents, and on coming back we
would seek each other out and again hire a
room together. Thus we changed our
lodgings several times, but when both of
us were in the fourth class we stumbled
across the landlady at whose house we had
met for the first sime, but who now lived
Ps another street, and again took a room of
er.
shouldn’t
We got along splendidly. Our charac-
ters were well suited and there was not the
least friction. We economized time as
well as money, for besides using the same
room, candles, tea and sugar, we would
study together, which proved at once more
convenient and cost us less time than get-
ting our lessons separately. Each of us
was gentle of disposition and yielding, and
nothing was further from our thoughts than
that our relations should ever become
strained.
Oar landlady was the widow of a tchino-
vnik (a government clerk, ) and to judge
from what was left of their former estab-
lishment they must have been rather well to
do. Now she was in anything but easy
circumstances, but managed to make both
ends meet. She lived with her only
daughter, a girl of 18 years or thereabouts.
Three years before, when we lived with
them for the first time, we had never taken
any notice of the girl. She was only a
child then, attending her lessons at the
gymnasium regularly and studying her
books at home, and as we did not board
with her mother we hardly ever had an
occasion to meet either of the two.
Now, however, we decided to have our
evening tea in our landlady’s dining room,
and so we made the girl’s acquaintance.
Her name was Anna Gregorievna, and
Bouynoff at once defined her in this
wise :
“‘Awfully pretty, but not clever, I am
afraid.”
I held my peace, but thought he was
right.
Pretty she certainly was. She was not
tall, but she had an erect, slender, exceed-
ingly graceful figure, a pair of bright blue
eyes, a turned up little nose and red lips.
She laughed much and as she had most
beautiful teeth this made her prettier than
ever.
We paused nearly ever evening together.
True, neither Bouynoff nor I was very talk-
ative, but then Anna Gregorievna was such
a babbler that she talked for all of us.
A frequent caller at the house was an
army officer named Obnevsky. He had
the rank of captain and a long mustache.
We knew next to nothing of the man, but
then he took no notice of us, and it seemed
to us that Anna Gregorievna took no more
interest in him than we did. He was a
man of about 40, and while we were mer-
rily chatting at the tea table he usually sat
with our landlady—he in the huge easy
chair and she on the sofa. Invariably
smoking a stout cigarette inserted into a
huge cigarette holder of amber, he spoke of
provisions and prices, of household ex-
penses and rent ; or else recounted some of
the rumors of the town.
We used to be in the best of spirits at
those gatherings. The presence of a young
girl, pretty, talkative and laughing, had
an exhilarating effect on us, and drew us
out until we were as garulous as Anna Gri-
gorievna. On returning to our room we
would feel the lingering spell of those hap-
py moments, and often Bouynoff and I
would sit up till late at night continuing
the conversation which we had begun with
the girl.
*‘It’s all because she is pretty,’’ Bouy-
noff would say. ‘‘She is not clever, and
we know it, and yet she exercises an in-
fluence over our minds, stirring them to
activity, setting them in motion. Beauty
is a great animator, isn’t it ?’’
What I am about to relate occurred to
both Bouynoff and myself on the .same
evening—maybe even at the same moment.
Perhaps it was all a mere accident ; per-
haps it was because Anna Gregorievna had
cast a particular expressing glance at each
of us ; certain it is that when we were
back in our room the usual conversation
somehow failed and we sat silent. Pres-
ently we fell to pacing the floor in oppo-
site directions, so that we collided three
times, and had to give it up. Bouynoff
reclined on the sofa, while I lay down on
the bed ; and so we lay for some time, both
silently eying the-ceiling.
1 do not know what Bouynoff’s feelings
were at that moment, but I felt as if my
heart had been wounded. I could think of
nobody and nothing but her. I was won-
dering why I had not felt the same long
ago. To be sure, she had always been so
charming, so ravishingly beautiful ; why,
then, had she not touched my heart much
sooner? She seemed to be standing before
my mind’s eye, melting my heart by her
presence, thrilling me with her look. I
in love, and to distraction. Suddenly I
began to thirst for conversation. I was
dying to talk of her.
‘‘Anna Gregorievna is particularly pretty
this evening, isnt’t she 2’ I said in the
simplest way and without moving my eyes
from the ceiling.
‘‘She is,” assented Bouynoff, reluct-
antly.
‘Do you also think so?” I asked, and
maybe there was a peculiar ring in my voice,
for my room-mate took fire.
“Why shouldn't I?’ he said testily.
“I don’t see who can prevent me from
thinking her pretty if I chose to do so ?”’
“Who speaks of preventing you?’ re-
torted I.
Wefell silent, and the conversation was
not renewed that evening. The air seemed
charged with something oppressive. It
was our first experience of its kind since
we had made each other’s acquaintance.
The very next day each of us began to
bring little presents and to do a thousand
and one little offices for our landlady’s
daughter. :
When I came into the dining room at
tea time when I was astonished to notice a
box of candy on the table, for our landlady
had never allowed herself such luxuries
before. Anna Gregorievna at once offered
me some of the candy and then presented
the box to Bouynoff, who declined in an
awkward sort of way.
‘‘Come, come, you have bought it your-
self ; consequently it is your taste,” urged
Anna Gregorievna. ‘‘How can you refuse
to take some then ?”’
I shivered and threw a morose look at
Bouynoff. This was the first unfriendly
glance I had ever directed at him. I was
almost shaking with vexation. What
business had he to bring her a box of candy?
In the first place it was quite an unusual
thing for either of us to do; in the second
place, where did he get the money ? For
I knew his every cent, and I was aware
that a box of candy, and an expensive one
(for I could see hy the hox that it came
from the best store in town, ) he could not
afford.
The next morning on waking, Bouynoff,
forgetting all about our strained relations,
said to me :
“Tell me what time it is, will you ?’
“Why, what has become of you watch ?”’
I asked.
1 “It’s—well it’s at the watchmaker’s,
Something is the matter with it and I had
to have it repaired.’
It was plain that Bouynoff was not tell-
ing the truth, and that he had pawned the
watch to buy the candy for Anna Gregoriev-
na, and I at once began to feel that I
must bring her some flowers.
When Bouynoff was gone (we now never
went to the university together) I began
to look about for something which might
be converted into flowers. I settled upon
my shawl, and, throwing it over my left
arm, I started out for the pawn shop.
In the evening Bouynoff came into the
landlady’s dining room ahead of me. Very
likely he wished to pay some compliments
to Anna Gregorievna in my absence. But
he found my flowers on the mirror shelf,
and this made him wild. The mirror re-
flected my nosegay so that instead of one I
seemed to have presented Anna Gregorie-
vna with two. She was in ecstasy over it,
and every little while stepped up to the
mirror to smell it admiringly.
*‘Are they not beautiful ?”’ she would
exclaim, casting a fond, graceful glance at
me as she spoke.
She had none too many such attentions
to spoil her, and she appreciated our little
presents highly.
The captain with his long mustachois
was in the room, and he also praised the
flowers. I felt triumphant and as if my
victory over my rival was as good as won,
but, of course, the matter did not end
there. We continued to compete in ren-
dering all sorts of service, Bouynoff trying
to ‘escort her to the circulating library,
where she was a subscriber, for instance,
while I invited her to the theatre three
times. My visits to the pawnshops were
quite frequent, so that I was left with
barely clothing enough to make a present-
able appearance. I noticed that my invi-
tations to the theatre were particularly
pleasing to Anna Gregorievna. She was
exceedingly attentive and sweet to me on
those evenings, but when I came into my
room, late at night, after the performance,
Bouynoff, who had fewer things to pawn
and who could not afford theatre tickets
therefore, would look daggers at me.
A thousand and one little attentions,
now by me, now by Bouynoff, were
showered on Anna Gregorievna, Bouynoft
and myself never once referring to these
things in our few conversations, although
both of us were aware of the change which
had come over our relations, On waking
in the morning we saw to it that we did
not rise together. If he happened to get
up first I would huddle myself up in my
quilt and make pretense of being fast
asleep. If I got out of bed before him he
would have resource to similar tactics.
We were simply loth to meet each other's
eyes and to feel compelled to make conver-
sation. Even at college we carefully
avoided each other. This became so evi-
dent to other-students that some of them
asked us :
‘What's the matter? Are you ont?”
We denied it, of course, but our voices
belied our words, and nobody believed us.
We never studied together now. Ten
days passed without a word being heard in
our room. Life together was getting
simply unbearable.
One day Bouynoff faltered out :
‘‘Suppose we went to live separately ?”’
I understood what he meant at once,
but made as though I did not, and gave
him a questioning look.
*‘It strikes me that we are not as com-
fortable as we might be here,”’ he said.
“Don’t you think it must be more con-
venient to have a room all to one’s self?’
‘I rather do,”’ said I.
The fact that we had lived for three
years together, never once finding itincon-
venient, did not occur to us.
And so we set out looking each for a
separate room for himself. But somehow
or other neither of us was successful. I
must confess that hidden in my soul was
the hope that Bouynoff might be the first
to find a lodging so that I could remain in
the room which we now rented together.
Where I would get the money to pay four-
teen rubles a month for my room I never
asked myself. Doubtless Bouynoff har-
bored the same hopes, and that was the
reason we were so slow in finding suitable
lodgings.
However, our relations had become so
strained, we hated each other so intensely
and so openly, that to remain together was
out of the question. This did not prevent
us from meeting at the landlady’s tea table
though we had anything but a pleasant
time there. Anna Gregorievna did not
seem to be aware of the change in our rela-
tions, but there we only eyed each other
askance and addressed ourselves to the girl
or her mother exclusively.
One evening we found. our landlady and
her daughter in what seemed to us a queer
frame of mind. We perceived something
solemn in their tone and manner, and they
looked somewhat agitated. Anna Greg-
orievna wore a light colored dress, with a
rose pinned to her corsage. The captain
was in the dining room, smoking a stout
cigarette, as usual, but instead of sitting
by the side of the mother, as was his wont,
he had a seat heside the girl.
‘‘Have you heard the news ?’’ our land-
lady asked.
“News? What is it?”
asked in duet.
‘Well, the captain has proposed to Anna
Gregorievna.
‘‘Has he ?”’
“Yes ; and our wedding will take place
in two weeks,’’ added the girl herself, quite
gayly.
Neither of us made any response for
some few seconds. Bouynoff, however,
was the first to regain his presence of mind
and to congratulate the landlady and her
daugther, and I followed suit.—7I. N. Po-
tapenko.
Bouynoff and I
California Has the Biggest Bird.
The South American condor is no longer
the king of flying birds. The rare Cali-
fornia vulture, which is now only to he
found in the Cocopah mountains, holds the
honor. It stands about four feet high,
though it is neither as .weighty nor as
strong as many birds of smaller size. It
has much the same appearance as the tur-
key buzzard. Years ago the California
buzzard was quite plentiful, but poisoned
meat intended for animals led to their ex-
tinction. It is for ‘this reason that the
eggs of this bird are now more valuable
than those of the great auk. There are 15
perfect specimens of the latter known,
while only two eggs of the California vul-
ture are preserved.
His Idea of a Short Nap.
Some trifling little things illustrate cer-
tain Englishmen’s knowledge of American
geography very picturesquely. Lately, an
Englishman who had taken the Pacific ex-
press at Philadelphia, called out on going
to bed before the train started :
‘‘Portah ! Portah !”
The porter came. ‘‘What is it, sir?”
‘‘Please wake me up when we get to San
Francisco, you know,’’ said the English-
man. Wy
——Among probable nominees for Con-
gress from New York. are several million-
aires. John Jacob Astor, Republican, and
recently a warrior, will be pitted against
0. H. P. Belmont, who was at one time
talked of as nominee for Governor on the
Democratic ticket, but who was put aside
because he has no war record. William
Astor Chanler and Stewart M. Brice will
probably also be among the Democratic
nominees.
Oblivion for Ex-Presidents.
Very Few of Them Have Been Prominent After
Quitting Office.—Retirement Their Portion.—The
Average Life After Leaving The High Position.—
Only Three of All the Executives Remained Prom-
inent After Having Stepped Down and Out.
When a man leaves the executive chair
of the United States he usually drops out
of public sight and notice. To be Presi-
dent of this great Nation is the acme of
fame for any citizen ; few of the rulers
have ever cared to again occupy the public
eye. In fact, the great majority has fallen
into oblivion in a measure. Quiet retire-
ment, wholly removed from the arena of
active political life, has been the portion of
all save three of the men who served the
country as President.
This is a peculiar phase of national life.
In no other land ever shone upon by the
sun have the same conditions existed.
Once out of office here and the former ruler
is a private citizen, with no authority and
too frequently without honor. This con-
dition is peculiar to the United States of
America. Here absolutely no provision is
made for the honoring of an ex-President
beyond the right to a seat in the halls of
Congress and a few things of this kind.
The officers and men of the army and navy
if they wish, pay special honor to a retired
executive, but the guns boom out no na-
tional salute if he drops into a post or na-
val station ; he is only a private citizen,
with no greater rights to honor than the
tramp who may jostle him.
In the eyes of all Americans to be Presi-
dent should be the climax of a man’s ca-
reer. But that, having left the office, the
former holder should immediately become
of hoi polloi is a national anomaly. Yet it
is also a national truth. Ex-Presidents are
merely entitles in the complex life of
the Nation. Unless something out of the
ordinary current takes place to recall them
to mind, the public fickle to a degree, will
fail to remember that they ever were prom-
inent in national matters. When death
overtakes a chief executive newspapers
delve into the past and write long obitua-
ries of him, special services are held in his
memory and he goes the way of all flesh.
Unless historians sing his praises he be-
comes but one of the list of men called to
administer the affairs of the Nation.
Twenty-four names are found on the roll
from Washington to McKinley. Just
three took part in public life after leaving
the chair. Just two obtained office. Both
these died in the harness, although one
was not long enough in office to have made
much impression. The third of this trio
tried vainly twice to regain the presidency
and then settled into a retirement only
broken by death. Nearly all of the former
executives died poor men, the rule having
been broken but in half a dozen cases. Of
these two are still living, and may yet be
of the number of poor men if the incidents
of ordinary life should take away their
fortunes.
Four vice presidents were elevated to
the presidency by the deaths of their re-
spective chiefs ; none ever succeeded him-
self, although all ardently desired this.
Two succeeded men who died natural
deaths and two succeeded Presidents mur-
dered by fanatic assassins. But the obliv-
ion which is said to environ the second in
command was too strong for any, and all
succumbed to this inexorable law. Tyler,
Fillmore and Arthur were candidates or
mentioned as possibilities, but neither was
nominated and neither had any opportu-
nity to gratify his ambition to be elected
by the people.
Washington, John Adams and Arthur
owned fortunes when they retired which
might be called affluent. All died in com-
parative luxury so far as the world’s goods
go. Cleveland and Benjamin Harrison are
reputed to be wealthy, but both being alive
and hearty their ultimate fates are still
wholly speculative. Judging from all out-
ward manifestations, it is said to prognos-
ticate that neither will feel the pinch of
want which made Jefferson’s last days full
of misery. All the other men with the
possible exception of Hayes, died compara-
tively poor men. So that it is demonstrat-
ed that the wearing of the royal ermine of
America is by no means the certain road to
fortune and an old age of ease and luxury.
Ten years is over the average of life after
leaving the chair. Most of the Presidents
were men well advanced in years when
elected. Grant and Cleveland hold the
record for youth in this respect. But
Grant died in eight years after he passed
from the White House to private life.
John Adams lived longer than any prede-
cessor or successor who held down the chair
of State. He lived to see his son placed
where he had once sat. He had been in
private life 24 years when this interesting
event took place, and survived a year long-
er. That son lived for 17 years after he re-
tired from office, four years shy of his
sire’s length in the chair.
Washington was a gentleman farmer first
of all and a soldier next. He retired to
his plantation at Mt. Vernon when he was
relieved from office and lived the life of a
country gentleman of the old school for
two years and a trifle over. Then, in 1799
the first President died from a sudden ail-
ment in the prime of manhood. He was
wealthy when his fortune is measured by
the standard of the time.
John Adams, second in line, was already
an old man, full of honors when elected to
office. He made more enemies than friends
and was allowed but one term, yielding to
his bitterest enemy, Thomas Jefferson.
But in his retirement he never ventured in
public life again-——he nourished his resent-
ment against all who had opposed him.
He lived longer than any man ever so ele-
vated, being in his 91st year when relieved
by death. He was a shrewd Yankee law-
yer and lived comfortably in his’ old age
from the fortune piled up when in active
life. He died within a few hours of Jef-
ferson his ancient enemy.
Jefferson was a Virginia gentleman and
land owner, who followed the law for a
profession until statecraft engaged all of
his attention. He was never rich, for his
open-hearted hospitality and generosity
prevented such a consummation. He filled
the chair eight years and retired to private
life a broken old man, broken in health
and fortune. He sold his library for one-
fourth its value to Congress and lost all
but a trifle of the price going security for a
faithless friend. He lived until July 4th,
1826, and died about the same time Ad-
ams did, almost penniless.
Madison was a lawyer who never did
much in practice. He was one of the first
Presidents to have a war on his hands. In
fact, he was the first of all after the estab-
lishment of the Nation although troubles
had come to bother a couplg of his prede-
cessors. From his earliest years he was
in public life and rose steadily to
the Presidency. He administered the
Nation during the war of 1812, a con-
flict which did much to cloud his fame.
After leaving the office he lived in seclu-
sion for 20 years, engaged in writing of the
times wherein he had been an active worker.
James Monroe was a soldier first, lawyer
next, and a statesman last of all. He held
the office for .eight years and was the au-
thor of the doctrine that America will per-
mit no European intermeddling with the
Western continent. He died a poor man
eight years after he left office. He was in
retirement from the time he laid aside the
duties of office until he died. He was poor
and added to his income hy his writings.
John Quincy Adams is almost the single
exception to the rule that the presidency
terminates the holder’s public life. He
lived for 19 years after he retired from the
presidency, nearly all of which were passed
as a member of the lower House of Con-
gress. He died while in the House in a
debate on an important bill. He was a
lawyer, but after he left public life he was
without means and clients and too old to
re-enter the field with younger competit-
ors. He accepted a seat in Congress and
remained there until he died in harness.
General Jackson was not a rich man, al-
though he had plenty of law practice in his
younger days. His abilities as a fighter
placed him in the army, and his reputation
is based on his generalship almost to the
exclusion of his legal abilities. He was
the first of the men who were in the army
to be honored with the presidency. He
lived in retirement after he left office, in
fairly comfortable circumstances. Moder-
ate would be the best term to apply to the
circumstances of the great majority of the
ex-presidents.
VanBuren lived for 21 years after he left
the chair. Polk survived three months,
dying sooner after leaving the office than
any man ever elected. Pierce lived 12
years, Buchanan seven, Johnson six, Grant
eight, Hayes ten, Arthur one, Cleveland
and Benjamin Harrison still live. With
the exception of the two last named, this
list was made up of relatively poor men.
General William Henry Harrison was
President for the shortest term in the an-
nals of the land. He died within two
months after his inauguration. General
Zachary Taylor administered the office for
a trifle over a year, when he also yielded
to disease. Everybody knows how Lin-
coln and Garfield were cut down by the
bullets of assassins. These are the four
who were mourned as dead Presidents.
All the others survived the terms to which
they were elected or fell heir.
John Tyler, of Virginia, who succeeded
General W. H. Harrison as President, sur-
vived the end of his term longer than any
second choice ever so elected. He lived
for 17 years and was a delegate to Wash-
ington from his native State when the ef-
fort was made to prevent war in 1860. He
went out with Virginia and elected to the
Confederate Congress, but died in 1861,
before the war had fairly commenced.
Four ex-presidents were living when the
war broke out. They were Tyler,
Fillmore, also a vice pushed up by
the death of his chief ; Pierce and Bu-
chanan. In those busy, troublous times it
is probable that not one out of a thousand
of citizens gave any thought to the two
men recently in the chair or the other two
who had been President from 17 to 20 years
before. The name of John Tyler conveyed
to but few the recollection of the President
who filled out the term of the hero of the
battle of the Thames.
Everybody knows Mr. Lincoln was nota
rich man. Everybody knows that General
Garfield was far from wealthy. Every-
body will remember the pitiful closing of
the life of the hero of Appomattox as he
struggled wearily to finish his memoirs be-
fore the flickering gleam of life should go
out forever, that he might make the clos-
ing days of his wife and children devoid of
want. Everybody knows that Arthur
needed no public hand to enable him to
complete his career in plenty.
Andrew Johnson, successor to the unfin-
ished second term of Mr. Lincoln, passed
the most uncomfortable short term ever
held by man in the presidential chair. He
was not willing to drop out of sight after
the close of his term and for years sought
vindication at the hands of the people of
Tennessee. He sought election to Congress
and was defeated. At last he succeeded in
re-establishing himself and was made Sen-
ator in 1875 while Grant held the presiden-
tial chair. He took part in but one de-
bate, attacking Grant under cover, but bit-
terly. He died during the summer vaca-
tion of Congress. He and John Quincy
Adams were the two who obtained office
after being retired from the presidency.
It is a peculiar fact that during all the
time, with one exception—that preceeding
the civil war—not more than two ex-presi-
dents were living at the same time.—Chi-
cago Chronicle.
Virtue has Its Own Reward.
The accompanying little story was sent
by a girl in the West to a Philadelphia man
and was written by a little boy in Denver,
one of a class of children of 6 or 8 years
old, who had been requested by their
teacher to write a story, they to select a
subject, and their composition not to be
subject to revision by their teacher, but to
be read before the children’s parents ex-
actly as written :
“Virtue has its own reward.’’ :
‘A poor young man fell in love with a
daughter of a rich lady, who kept a candy
shop. The poor man could net marry the
rich candy lady’s daughter because he had
not enough money to buy any furniture.
“A wicked man offered to give the young
man twenty-five dollars if he would be-
come a drunkard. The young man wanted
the money very much, so he could marry
the rich candy lady’s daughter, but when
he got to the saloon he turned to the
wicked man and said : “I will not become
a drunkard, even for great riches. Get
thee behind me, Satan.”
‘On his way home he found a pocket
book containing a million dollars in gold.
Then the young lady consented to marry
him. They had a beautiful wedding and
the next day they had twins. Thus, you
see that virtue had its own reward.
Recovered His Bonds.
PHILADELPHIA, Oct. 17—Samuel Green-
wood, president of the National bank of
Coatesville, Pa., to-day recovered $10,000
worth of bonds, stolen from him in this
city on October 1st. Mr. Greenwood had
the bonds in a satchel and, while in a
restaurant, the thief substituted another
bag. Mr. Greenwood discovered his loss
when he got home. The bonds were Citi-
zens’ street railway of Indianapolis and
Kansas City, Pittsburg and Gulf, and were
not negotiable. Several days ago Mr.
Greenwood received a letter from a Phil-
adelphia lawyer saying he had a client who
was prepared to return the property under
certain conditions. Communications fol-
lowed, and Mr. Greenwood to-day paid
$1,200 for the bonds and agreed not to
prosecute.
Equal to the Occasion.
Maud—Did you not call for help when
he kissed you ?
Marie—No. He didn’t need any.
—Nothing pleases people so much as
being persuaded to do what they are going
to do anyway.
SE —==——
Gomez for the Presidency.
He Will Be Elected at the Meeting of the Cuban
Assembly.—Maso for the Vice Presidency.—Tele-
phone Wires in the Neighborhood of Santiago
Have Been Broken and Torn Down.
SANTIAGO DE CUBA, Oct. 16.—The meet-
ing of the Cuban Assembly at San Cruz is
fixed for Oct. 20th, but, owing to lack of
tranportation facilities, the members of the
Assembly will be unable to arrive at Santa
Cruz on time, and the end of the month
will probably have come before the election
of a President and cabinet takes place.
El Cubano, a daily paper of Santiago,
predicts the election of the following
ticket :
President, General Maximo Gomez 3
vice president, Senor Bartolome Maso :
secretary of foreign affairs, Dr. Domingo
Mendez Capote ; home secretary, Senor
Benjamin Guerra ; secretary of justice,
Senor Jose A. Lanauza ; secretary of war,
General Calixto Garcia ; secretary of pub-
lic instruction, Senor Enrique Varona.
The local papers are much wrought up
over propositions denying the right of the
Americans to grant concessions which Cuba
libre would repudiate.
General Wood has received a letter from
Hayti, requesting permission by many re-
turning Cuban families to bring with them
agricultural implements free of duty. Gen-
eral Wood replied that President McKin-
ley’s proclamation permitted this.
The telephone wires in the neighborhood
of Santiago have been broken and torn
down by Cubans for use in binding hay
ricks. General Wood has ordered the ar-
rest of all found to be concerned in the af-
fair. Many things have occurred which
tend to show that the Spanish land system
of registration is apparently perfect.
Judge Advocate Blount has been agree-
ably surprised at finding, in many in-
stances, his work simplified.
General Calixto Garcia desired to con-
tradict the statement made by several news-
papers that he is receiving pay from the
United States government for his assistance
in disbanding the Cuban troops. He de-
clares that he is a patriot and is not in
need of money.
General Garcia had a long interview
with General Wood this morning. request-
Ing transportation to Santa Cruz del Sur.
He told General Wood it was important
for him to be there in order ‘to frustrate
the plot to overthrow the supremacy of
those who had fought for Cuba for three
years, and to put in their places non-com-
batants and inmigrants.’’ General Wood
agreed to provide him with transportation
by the Bessie on her next trip to Man-
zanillo, which probably will be to-morrow.
General Wood has received orders from
Washington to secure information as to
such places in the province of Santiago as
the Spaniards are evacuating and to send
troops thither immediately, as well as to
take over the civil government. He is still
waiting news from Holguin before sending
the Second immune regiment there.
The ice plant presented to Santiago some
time ago by citizens of New York is nearly
ready for use. It hasa capacity of seven
tons daily and an annex for refrigerating
meat.
Last night five American negro team-
sters got into an altercation with three
policemen, with the result that one team-
ster was killed. Some time afterward the
other teamsters attacked a policeman,
whom they disarmed and beat severely.
The four are now under arrest.
Owing to possible disturbances to-night
the military guards were quadrupled and
all saloons were ordered closed.
Folly of Borrowing Trouble.
who
con-
There are some unhappy persons
seem fated to go through life with a
stitutional tendency to despondency. We
all know them and meet them daily and
they can always see a cloud where none
exists. With most of these persons, how-
ever, it is simply a matter of exercising the
will. Anxiety about present trouble or
prospective difficulties never brought any
good to those who indulged in it. The
successful ones in life are those who have
been buoyant in spirit and who resolutely
refuses to allow the cares of life to unduly
oppress them. Instead of allowing the
mind to brood over things that cannoi be
helped, it should be set to work upon the
duty that lies nearest to it. Worrying
about matters does not improve them in
the slightest degree. On the contrary, it
weakens the purpose, robs the physical
nature of its vitality and totally unfits us
to cope with the obstacles that lie in our
path. The most shocking mistake, and
one that is unfortunately only too frequent-
ly made, is too meet troubles half way.
These will come soon enough. They don’t
want any encouragement, and very often
when they do come they are not half so
formidable as we imagined they would be.
Anticipation in some cases is worse than
reality.
br
Unappreciated Efforts.
“It made me feel like throwing up my
job,” said the old engineer as he wiped the
long stem of his patent oil can. ‘‘You see, it
was this way ; I had the superintendent
on, and he ordered me to make a fly run,
I posted the fireman, and together we
worked like demons and made the old mill
hum. After we reached the end of the di-
vision I felt proud because I thouglit the
superintendent would come out and thank
us at least hecause we had broken all rec-
ords. Well, he didn’t come, and after
waiting about 10° minutes I went back
along the private car and found John Hart
the flagman. He said, you made a splen-
did run Jim, and it’s too bad that you are
to get no credit for it.” ‘‘How’s that? I
said, ‘Well, said John, that ‘‘duffer’’ went
to sleep as soon as he got in the car, and
he’s snoring yet.” Then I swore for every
snore of that official and wished he was
where coal is not needed to keep up
steam.’
——How did this happen ?’’ asked the
surgeon, as he dressed the wound in the
cheek and applied a soothing poultice to
damaged eye.
“Got hit with a stone,’ replied the
patient.
‘‘Who threw it?”
‘‘My—my wife,” was the reluctant an-
swer.
“Hum ; it’s the first time I knew of a
woman to hit anything she aimed at,”
muttered the surgeon.
‘She was throwing at the neighbor's
hens, ’’ replied thesufferer. ‘‘I was behind
her.”
I ——————
The Stars and Stripes Floating Over San
Juan.
PoNCE, Porto Rico, Oct. 20.—The stars
and stripes were formally raised at San
Juan on Tuesday. Brigadier General
Frederick D. Grant was given command
of the district of San Juan, comprising the
jurisdictions of Arecibo, Bayamo and Hu-
macoa, with the adjacent islands. Briga-
dier General Guy V. Henry was given
command of the other portions of Porto
Rico.